Silence.
A soft breath, followed by the low scratching sound of ice skates gliding across the ice.
The low light of an empty rink, the stands empty—one, white-haired man in the center of the rink. His face is pleasant, but betrays the soft emotion his body moves with—he feels nothing from this song, from the series of movements that make up his performance.
Ahiru wants so badly to turn on the lights, to play something that rings out with less melancholy, she wants to see the prince of figure skating smile…
"Come on now, Ahiru, you cannot give up after a loss like this! You're still up for Nationals, don't let this one drag you down…"
The comforting voice of her coach drifted in through one ear and out the other, as Ahiru's eyes scanned the news article that had just come up on her phone.
"'22-year old Ahiru Arima suffers humiliating loss at the Grand Prix Final, does this spell the end of her career?'" Ahiru read aloud, her voice cracking as she looked up at her coach with a bittersweet smile, tears blurring her sky-blue eyes. "Does it?"
"Don't read those…"
The young figure skater stood on shaky legs, ignoring her coach calling out her name as she moved further into the building, away from the rink where she could hear people calling out the name of the man who stood highest on the podium…
Mytho…! Mytho…! Mytho…!
It wasn't… uncommon for Ahiru to fumble so close to the podium like this. It was much more common than she wished, of course—she wanted to be up there, she wanted to stand next to Mytho Lebedev, her idol, the Prince of the Ice. But…
Her family's bird, a sweet and silly little Budgie that she'd had since she was a kid, had died right before she'd left for the Finals. That, plus the stress of being at the Finals for the first time had led her to staying up all night and completely losing her appetite for the entire event. She'd nearly blacked out in the middle of her free skate.
She'd always struggled with eating, her appetite was always the first thing to go the moment she started to get nervous. She could force herself to eat in those moments, but it always left her feeling ill instead of faint.
Ahiru entered the restroom, closing the door tightly behind her and locking herself in one of the stalls. She pulled out her phone, that article still the last thing up on its mocking screen.
She called her mom.
"S- Sorry…" she'd whispered, a chill running down her spine the moment she heard her mother's voice—what are you apologizing for? "Um- I mean, s- sorry if I woke you."
She didn't want to make her mother worry, Ahiru told herself. Maybe she would try to take the loss in stride, maybe she could pull back through if she can convince herself she's strong enough…
Her mother talked on—they'd had the program up for a public viewing in town, their tiny little town all rooting for her. All… all of them watched her fumble with every jump, even having tripped over her own feet going out onto the ice for her free skate.
All of them watched her fail.
Suddenly, Ahiru couldn't hear her mother anymore—offering some platitudes, telling her she'd get it next time, the young figure skater could only hear the sound of her own heart, pounding in her ears. She couldn't go back there, and she never wanted to show her face in the rink again.
"I'm s- sorry," Ahiru's voice cracked, as the tears she'd barely held at bay finally spilled over. "I'm sorry."
She quickly ended the call without a proper goodbye, knowing that it would be buzzing again soon with her mother's worry. She set it on silent and brought her hands to her eyes as a sob bubbled up past her lips, and she sucked in a pitiful, shaking breath. Tears dripped onto her glasses, which she quickly removed to cry a little more efficiently.
Then, a soft knock on the stall door.
"S- Sorry," Ahiru sniffed, thinking it was someone who needed an unoccupied stall. She mopped up most of her tears with a bit of toilet paper, before flushing it and standing as she put her glasses back on, unlocking the door.
Her eyes widened at the girl standing in front of her—unmistakable, perfectly styled black hair, brown eyes that shone like rubies, and a smile curled into her lips.
"Little duckling, you've fallen so far. Crying in the bathroom?"
Rue Voronina, from the same Russian team that Mytho was on. Obvious by the Russian National Team jacket she wore over her costume.
Her voice was noble sounding, sweet if it weren't for the hint of condescending that even Ahiru could pick up on.
"Just a little advice, woman to woman, perhaps you should just drop out at this point, leave the spot open to someone who can accomplish more, right?" Rue said, looking down at the other girl, her hands resting delicately in the pockets of her jacket.
Rue was a real prodigy, younger even than Ahiru—she'd be debuting in the senior division next year.
"You're… probably right," was all Ahiru could come up with in reply, her head lowering as she stepped around the other girl, moving towards the door.
"No hard feelings!" Rue called after her, a soft laugh following Ahiru out the door.
"No hard feelings…" Ahiru muttered to herself, as she met back up with her coach and headed back to the hotel, wishing she could just teleport somewhere else. Instead, she was dolled up and forced to go to the wrap up party…
With a splitting headache and an urge to curl up in her bed to never leave, Ahiru dragged her wheeled luggage behind her, through the airport lobby.
A reporter called out to her and it took Ahiru a moment to process, before she shifted and turned around. It was one from Japan, too, and she smiled brightly at her. "Don't give up!" the woman said, continuing-
"...Ru-!"
Ahiru's gaze moved from the reporter to where she thought she'd heard the tail end of her name—watching as, instead, Mytho and Rue walked past where she'd been stopped.
Mytho was talking softly, gently reminding Rue on some technical things she could have worked on-
Rue, not Ahiru. Of course.
Ahiru was being naive again.
Her gaze lingered on the man, a few years her senior, his fluffy, shiny white hair framing his fair expression and honey-brown eyes. As if sensing her eyes on him, Mytho turned his head—locking eyes with Ahiru.
Ahiru's heart jumped into her throat, pushing at the deep sadness that encompassed her. He was so far above her station, to even imagine standing on a podium near him was… Completely foolish. Gender aside, he existed in a world so far removed from her's that she was lucky to even get to gaze upon him, she decided.
"Did you want a picture?" His soft voice called out, and the ginger-haired girl turned on her heel, practically running away.
Ahiru nearly choked on her spit the moment she stepped out of the train station and saw posters of herself hung up on the wall, cheering her on for the Grand Prix Final. She tugged her paper mask up a little higher on her face, wishing she could curl up and die.
It'd been almost exactly five years since she'd been home, and only a year since the competition that had completely knocked the wind out of her sails. She'd basically entirely sealed her career's death certificate by bombing Nationals right after, and decided to lay low and finish college, after ending things with her coach…
Now, she was home, and she didn't know what to do. It was still a little while before the next skating season started, she had no coach, and because she'd bombed so badly…
She'd basically have to start all over again, at a smaller competition, and build herself back up for qualification. It was entirely humiliating—she was 23 and starting over after she'd come so close to touching that pedestal…
"Ahiru!" a gruff voice called out to the girl, and Ahiru turned on her heel in surprise.
"Fakir?" Ahiru squawked, hands flapping nervously as her old ballet-instructor held up a 'welcome home!' sign that made the younger girl giggle. It was very clearly something he had not put together himself, as she could tell by the glitter dusted on it, and the elegant, scrawling handwriting.
"What took you so long?" the taller man called, as Ahiru rushed over to his side, smiling up at him. He'd been her ballet instructor for a while, and was still one of her longest friends.
Fakir had inadvertently set off a bit of a chain reaction from calling Ahiru's name, and the people milling about in the train station had turned to look at the pair, whispering—Is that Arima Ahiru? Didn't she lose at that big competition? What's she doing back here?
Ahiru tugged her warm hat a little further down on her head, feeling the weight of their stares on her.
An older man had walked up to her, excited to meet a 'celebrity' of sorts. "Can I shake your hand?" he'd asked.
Shame welled up in Ahiru's chest—she was a loser, he'd gain nothing from shaking her hand-
"I- I'm sorry, I'm in a bit of a hurry- QUA-" The girl sputtered as Fakir grabbed her hand, moving it to connect with the older man's.
"Don't act big just because you were overseas for half a decade," Fakir reprimanded, his other hand pressing down on the back of Ahiru's head, forcing her into a slight bow.
"Th- Thank you," she stammered, shaking the man's hand, and then the hand of a child who had approached her, and so on-
"Now you're going to greet everyone else in town that cheered you on," Fakir said seriously, and Ahiru knew it was because that was always how the man would pull her out of a slump, to force her to be social. Or, he was punishing her for not returning home as soon as she was able to.
Ahiru bit down on her lip, tugging a little on the hand that Fakir still held.
"I- I'm really tired, can I just… go home? First?" Ahiru asked, looking up at her old instructor with her big, round eyes, only enhanced by the round glasses that rested on her nose.
Fakir stared down at her hard, before he bent under her stare. "...Fine. C'mon, I'll walk you home, then."
The pair set off from the train station, chatting lightly about this and that—little things from Ahiru's time overseas that hadn't made it into the weekly calls, and stuff around their little town.
The onsen that Ahiru's parents owned was a classic Japanese style building, with a little statue of a tanuki standing outside of the doors, welcoming guests inside. Her family lived in their onsen, renting out the other rooms as a very small inn. Kinkan didn't get many tourists anymore, and as the little town dwindled more and more, their onsen had slowly settled into being the only one around.
They entered the little bathhouse, and Ahiru called out.
"I'm home!"
The soft pounding of feet announced that her mother had heard her, running to the edge of the entrance, barely stopping herself from stepping out without her shoes on as she threw her arms around her daughter, giving her a hug so tight Ahiru was afraid her eyes were going to pop out of her skull. Her mother was a tall, well-fed woman, her dark black hair shining nearly purple in the warm light from where it was pulled back into a tight bun.
"Omoto, our sweet little duckling is finally home!" The woman called, and Ahiru's father stepped out a few moments later, looking over at her proudly. He was a portly man with brown hair that was graying at the temples and a fluffy mustache that covered his upper lip, and his eyes wrinkled so much when he smiled that they nearly disappeared behind his round cheeks.
"Ebine," Fakir had greeted cordially. "Have you lost weight since I last saw you?"
"Nope!" Ebine replied cheerfully, as she patted her little girl's face. "What happened to those squishy cheeks, Ahiru?"
"Ah…" Ahiru let out a nervous, sheepish laugh as she tugged her heavy coat a little tighter around herself.
Fakir clicked his tongue, sliding his gaze towards his old friend. "I was wondering the same thing," he'd said, giving her a critical once-over as if he could see through her heavy coat. He tugged her coat and her scarf off of her, her last layer of protection. "That's what I'd thought."
Ahiru's clothes hung loosely off of her body, and she gently rubbed her arm in embarrassment. This was no body of a figure skater—she'd practically lost most of her muscle definition! Between finishing her classes and reflecting on the past years and what was to come…
Ebine tsk'd and shook her head, grabbing her daughter by her shoulders and giving her light body a little shake. "Let's get you set up back in your room, I'll cook something extra delicious tonight!"
Ahiru was happy for the respite, having always joked that she had trouble eating overseas because she missed her mother's cooking—and she wasn't entirely lying, she'd realized, as she'd easily mowed down two bowls of crispy katsudon, with an extra bowl of rice.
Leaning back, Ahiru patted her stomach with a contented sigh. She was already feeling so much better, so much happier inside of her home. She wouldn't mind it if she never had to leave again, maybe she'd just give up on making a career out of figure skating, help her parents out with the onsen…
After dinner, she went to their family's living room to kneel in front of the small shrine her parents had set up to memorialize her little budgie, clasping her hands together to offer a little prayer in the hopes that her little Prince was flapping his wings in heaven now…
The door behind her slowly slid open, and Ahiru turned to see her sister standing there, a soft smile on her lips. Her sister was taller than her, her body carrying a little more weight. Her hair was a chocolate brown and hung in a loose ponytail, her warm blue eyes kindly regarding her little sister.
"Raetsel," Ahiru greeted, shifting to stand and hug her sister.
"Ahiru," she replied, her voice soft and loving, her arms holding Ahiru securely. "You're back. Are you staying? Or…?"
"I don't know yet," the girl replied with a little, sheepish smile. "I'm going to go to the rink now, can you tell mom and dad that I'll be back later…?"
"Of course," Raetsel smiled softly, patting her sister's cheek. "Don't push yourself Ahiru. I know you did your best."
What should have been a comforting statement only made Ahiru feel bad all over again—you did your best, she'd heard that quite a few times now.
You did your best.
She'd come in last, at two major competitions, in a row. Not to mention all of the other handfuls of competitions she'd embarrassed herself at… Believing that to be her best, was disheartening.
Ahiru only smiled over at her sister, nodding as she stepped away and left the room. She padded down the hallway to her long-abandoned room, finding it to be in exactly the same state that she'd left it in—old posters of Mytho Lebedev hung up on each of the walls, her bed made neat, her desk mostly empty, and some other things left where she'd remembered them. All completely free of dust, and knowing her mother, it meant she had aired out her room often, something that made Ahiru's heart ache a little.
She knew she should have visited home sooner, but at first it had been an attempt to force herself into independence—she had to stand on her own two feet to carve her place in the figure skating world. Between practice and going to university overseas, it made more sense to just stay at the rink over the holidays—how could she take a break when she was still so far behind the other skaters? Then… the very last thing that she'd wanted to do was face her family after humiliating herself and them and the people who had cheered her on.
To think that every week, her mother took care of her room so it'd be ready for her if she decided to visit…
Ahiru shook her head, squeezing her eyes closed. She wasn't going to dwell on it—not when there was so much else to worry about. She could make it up to her mother now that she was home.
She pulled on her favorite bits of athleisure and grabbed a small bag that she stuffed some normal clothes and her ice skates into, as well as a water bottle that she'd fill once she reached the rink.
With that, she left the onsen and grabbed her sister's bike, riding it all the way up the hill to the ice rink.
She stepped inside, hearing the little bell jingle to announce her presence.
"I'm sorry, we're closed right now!" An achingly familiar voice called.
"It- It's just me…" Ahiru called softly, as she approached the booth that the voice had come from.
A tall, pink-and-white haired girl stood on the tips of her toes, balancing to place a pair of ice skates on the top of the shelf in front of her. She turned at the sound of Ahiru's voice, and her sweet, contented expression turned into something much more joyful as she ran forward and slammed her hands down on the counter in excitement.
"Ahiru!"
The amount of times she's heard her name like that today…
Ahiru smiled, sheepishly rubbing her arm as she took in the sight of her old best friend- Tutu Nishigori- a girl she'd known since elementary school.
Tutu had been the one who had first introduced Ahiru to the world of figure skating, had first shown Mytho to her, and who had supported her in her journey to try to enter that world. Even though, for a time, Tutu had been a better figure skater than Ahiru, the older girl had ended up settling down in this town and getting married to their other mutual close friend, the very Fakir that had picked her up from the train station.
"I'm so sorry I couldn't be there to greet you, I had to close up the rink!" Tutu said, grinning joyfully at her close friend as she clasped Ahiru's hands. "I had a feeling I'd still see you, though. Did you want the rink…?"
"Yes, please," Ahiru chirped, smiling genuinely over at her friend.
Tutu unlocked the door into the rink for her, happily following her out towards the rink, chatting as Ahiru sat down on a bench and removed her sneakers to start lacing up her skates. She happily listened to Tutu go on about her daughter, Fakir, how her day was, filling the silence that she knew Ahiru couldn't stand to feel.
"I'm sorry to hear about your bird, too, I know that had to have hit hard, right before the finals…" Tutu said after a little beat of silence.
They'd picked out her little budgie together—after they'd seen in an article that Mytho had one, they'd even gone so far as to find one with similar colors. They'd named it Prince.
The ginger haired girl drifted over to the rink and stepped onto the ice, letting out a breath she'd probably been holding for the last five years. A piece of home lodged in her lungs, finally broken free by stepping out onto the one place she'd always felt the most comfortable, besides Fakir's studio.
She skated in a slow circle, letting her free leg hang out, getting a feel for the freshly smoothed ice, before she drifted back over to the half wall that Tutu stood behind. The taller girl had a soft expression on her face, which lit up when Ahiru approached.
The shorter girl removed her glasses and gently handed them over to her friend, smiling nervously.
"I- I want to show you something, if- if that's okay. I've been practicing it in my free time, um…" Ahiru let out a soft sigh, as she hooked her phone up to the rink's bluetooth (she still knew the password by heart from the years before).
A slow melody drifted from the speakers, and then a deep, sorrowful voice began to sing in Russian over the orchestral piece as Ahiru skated away. She let her body move through the steps of this sequence that she'd been studying and practicing for months in her free time. It was a song that had touched her soul, and the choreography that went to it brought to mind someone who was being dragged through the motions of life, nearing the end of where their energy could take them.
She could see the story play out, the sadness that permeated every haggard movement, following along with the notes of the song. She didn't even attempt the jumps that went with this program—popping singles and doubles where the original had been triples and quads.
Ahiru could feel contentment in the easy movements, the familiar movements. She wasn't skating in front of a group of judges, nor a crowd of people, nor her disappointed coach. It was just her, and her best friend, alone on the ice—just as they used to do after school most days.
The notes drew to a close, and Ahiru stopped in the ending pose, her chest heaving with the exercise. She let her arms fall back to her sides as she turned to look at her friend, who was slamming her hands down on the half wall in rancorous excitement.
"Ahiru! That was awesome! That- That was Mytho Lebedev's program from this year, wasn't it?!" She called, as Ahiru skated over, accepting her glasses once more.
"Yeah… Um, it is," the girl replied sheepishly.
"Where did you even get the time to practice that? I would've… ah, I would have thought you'd have been depressed, after…" Tutu trailed off a little awkwardly.
"I was," Ahiru replied, fidgeting a little with her hands. "And then… I don't know. I got sick of being sad. I wanted… I wanted to learn to love skating again- so I… studied Mytho's program and I recreated it, like we used to do when we were kids…"
"That's-"
A little, light-brown haired head popped up over the half wall, and the wide eyes of Tutu's daughter burned holes into Ahiru's forehead.
"Duckling-zura!" Uzura announced loudly, as she struggled to pull herself higher up on the wall.
"Uzura!" Tutu lifted her kid easily, laughing as Fakir appeared a moment later, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Sorry, Tu, she ran in as soon as she heard the music. For some reason, she was really excited to see our little town's celebrity…" Fakir said, as Tutu handed their little girl over to her father, and his expression softened immediately. "I'll get her back to the house. You two carry on."
He pecked his wife's cheek, and Ahiru blushed a little and looked away from the domestic scene, her chest aching in envy. Was it because she'd once had a crush on Fakir, or because she'd never even dated once in her life, who knew.
Once they were alone again, Tutu had tugged her own pair of skates on to join her best friend back out on the ice, letting Ahiru walk her through the moves of Mytho's program. They easily settled into the familiar practice, and Ahiru felt herself relax back into her home…
Ahiru stared in horror at her phone, at the news, at the millions of calls she'd missed when she was asleep. She'd gone viral. From skating Mytho's program.
That little devil of a child, Tutu's daughter, had secretly recorded her the night before, and uploaded it to YouTube, Twitter, even Facebook…
"I'm so sorry," Tutu whispered over the phone, and Ahiru could hear the sound of Fakir scolding a very unrepentant Uzura in the background. "If it's any consolation, a lot of the comments are really positive…"
"...I… see…" Ahiru replied, almost too numb to even know how to react as she let her phone fall away from her ear. It wasn't the worst thing that could have happened to her, she supposed. She'd already been humiliated past the point of return, what was a million or so views on a video of her skating to a program above her station…
"Ahiru~! Come help shovel the snow!" her mother called, and it snapped Ahiru out of her own head in genuine confusion.
Snow? It was April!
She opened the blinds, peering out into the snow-covered cherry tree blossoms. Was that auspicious? Snow in April?
With no answer to that question, Ahiru crawled out of bed and tugged her warmest clothes on, stuffing a fuzzy hat over her head as she padded out of her room. The main room in the onsen, where guests typically sat and ate or watched the one tv they had set up (apparently, where they'd all watched her performances. Embarrassing) was all abuzz as she walked past.
Ahiru paid them no mind as she stuffed her feet in a pair of snow boots and opened the door—only stumble back as a bird flew right into her face.
It tweeted happily, settling itself on her shoulder and starting to nip at one of her ears, making her giggle as she gently moved the bird onto her hand.
It was a little budgie, golden with bluish accents. It… looked just like her own, but a little bigger, a little older than her's had been when he passed.
"Doesn't it look just like our little Prince? He came with a handsome, foreign looking guest," her dad said, smiling from behind the counter. "I know we don't usually let pets run around, but your mother made an exception, since he looked so much like our's."
"A… A- A what?" Ahiru stammered, her eyes widening into saucers as she looked back at the little bird, which chirped and tilted its little head. "Wh- Where- where's the guest?!"
"He's in one of the baths-"
Ahiru kicked off her boots and coat as she scrambled to her feet, running through the halls of the onsen without any other thing on her mind except to see this guest and there was absolutely no way it could actually be him and if it isn't she's pretty sure she's going to cry but if there's even the littlest chance-
She burst through the guys' showers, covering her eyes until she made it out to the hot springs.
As her eyes opened, Ahiru felt herself suck in a breath too big for her chest, before expelling it all.
Sitting peacefully in the hot springs, washcloth resting on his forehead, was the 5x Worlds champion (plus a slew of other awards and records), the very figure skating legend that had motivated Ahiru through all of these years with the sheer desire to stand near…
Mytho, Prince of the Ice.
Hearing someone burst into the hot spring, Mytho's rich, honey-colored eyes slowly opened, as his face lit up with the joy of meeting an old friend for the first time in years.
He'd started to stand from the water to greet her-
Ahiru QUACKED in surprise as she stumbled backwards, raising a hand to cover whatever he was about to reveal to her on a first meeting-
"Mytho! Wha- wha- what are you doing here?!" Ahiru stammered, still holding up one hand to maintain his modesty, as her other hand rubbed the steam from her glasses.
"Ahiru," He'd said her name slowly, like he was getting used to the syllables on his tongue. He still stood- either unaware or uncaring about his modesty, regarding her calmly. "I'm here to be your coach. I'll take you to the Grand Prix Finals."
"Wh… WHAT?!"
AN: Comments are always appreciated! :3